This past week I have found myself at a point where I honestly do believe my head is about to explode.
The term “Mind-Fucking” should not be allowed in real life. It should be left back in the conversations that P-Diddy and Jonah Hill have in “Get Him to The Greek”.
I don’t like how for some reason our relationships of the past seem to rear their nasty little heads up just when you think everything is going so well in your life . (Well, I may be slightly deluded here thinking everything is going well, but it’s the reassurance I have combined with my love of wine and cigarettes).
Saturday Night I found myself confronted with “He who shall not be named”. I was totally unprepared, even though if I do say so myself I was looking a million bucks. ( I think the term we are looking for here was I had a little bit of RAWRRRRR! going on.)
His reaction to seeing me was an attempt to run away from what clearly was not going to be a pleasant discussion. I walked away and then decided that I had every right to stand up to him and give him a piece of my mind.
I marched right over there as quickly as my 5 inch Electric Blue Robert Roberts could take me.
A piece of my mind at 8.15pm in the middle of a packed pub, involved me cursing at him telling him how much of a coward he was and why on earth had he not yet been deported. I honestly did not realise how possible it was for me to be so horrifically angry and nasty all in one go.
After this and me still having a bit of a psycho fit, the conversation turned into an adult conversation of two grown-ups trying to understand exactly what went wrong, and the backlash response of me launching a traumatic A-bomb of information on the man that reduced him into a blubbering crying mess.
At the time I was proud of my moment as I clearly wanted him to feel all the pain that he had made me feel, and then I realised it made me just as bad as him.
After telling friends what happened, they didn’t really agree and the conclusion that they came to was “He deserved it”.
The lack of communication when the break up occurred was the instigator for my mood along with the fact that he had disappeared to find himself , surely running away to another country isn’t going to solve your problems, and coming back to the country where you created the problems DEFINITELY isn’t going to solve anything.
Seriously, Dude, Australia is a big place – Don’t shit on your own doorstep and then rock back up to the same bloody city thinking that you will never have to deal with the crap that you created.
All the apologies and crying and whatever else he wanted to give to me as an excuse on Saturday basically have made my brain go into melt down mode. The Glass Case of Emotion overtook me for the weekend and also over the past few days. The anxiety has been a little too much to deal with, but I’m having to build the bridge and get over it.
Understand this though, I wont be taking him back, I just wanted him to hurt as much as what I did.
I accomplished this.
It doesn’t make me a bad person. In fact I did what most people wish they had done and never had the opportunity to do so.